Agents: Lies
by Overlord Mordax
Summary: Jones finally must make a choice about himself, Greer and Katrina.


A/N: This installment of Agents occurs after 'Untitled' and several days before Stormhawk's 'The Dark Side' arc. Again there is a one sided slash warning on this fic; if you don't like it you are welcome to go read something else. No action in it, I'm afraid, but my next one will have action in barrelfuls.  
  
Summery: Jones creates Katrina's file and tries to decide if he should tell him the truth. They meet again in Monkey Boxing. Oh, and remember how Jones likes video games?  
  
Disclaimer: The Matrix and all affiliated characters and situations belong to Warner Brothers and the Wachowski brothers. The 'Agents' series was originally created by Stormhawk who also owns Stef Mimosa and Carol Whitman. I own recruit Greer. None of the videogames or comics mentioned in here belong to me either.  
  
Agents: Lies  
  
By Overlord Mordax  
  
Jones' office door was locked. It was not really so much to block entry as it was a deterrent to unexpected entry. He was very busy at the moment and was not sure if he would notice anyone approaching; he did not want anyone to see what he was doing. His glasses were off, set aside on the desk and his fingers were flying across the keyboard. But Jones for once was not pinpointing an anomaly, nor tracking rebel posts on hacking boards. His typing was presented letter by letter in green on black on a small screen directly in front of him.  
  
He was creating a file, fabricating a past. For Katrina. And as he typed, he contemplated his actions. Once a week for over a month recruit Greer had been meeting a woman at a local club near the Agency. The young man had been remarkably truthful with her, they talked about everything, but never about themselves. But now Greer wanted to know more about the his mysterious friend, he had looked up her file, but there was no file. That's because there was no Katrina. She was a construct, an avatar remotely controlled by agent Jones himself. It hadn't been his idea at first, it had been an experiment by the Mainframe. But sitting there really talking to someone had been an entirely new experience for the tech agent. Jones had never felt so connected to anyone or anything. The only thing that came remotely close to describing it was the code access, and that was so completely different that the comparison really was not valid in the first place.  
  
The code was consuming until it became malignant in a way that Jones did not believe his interaction with Greer ever could be. But sitting there, creating a person who had never been real to hide behind when he talked to his friend felt wrong. It felt like a betrayal, an abuse of the young man's trust. He didn't know what to do though, he had never had to deal with a situation like this before.  
  
How was he supposed to tell the dark haired human that the woman who he was half in love with did not exist? How did he break the news that she was not a woman at all, instead, a construct created by the Agent; that he feelings Greer said so mirrored his own were not even those of a human? He would not understand, he would hate and resent Jones for the deception and Jones would lose both the connection he had with Greer as Katrina and the friendship he had recently gained as himself. And Jones did not find that acceptable in the least.  
  
Only a week and a half ago Jones had asked Greer to accompany him on a raid of a potential rebel pick up. Greer had been severely wounded, nearly killed, and Agent Jones had barely had been able to get him back to the agency in time. Jones had been fighting with Anderson, who had shot him, forcing him to shift into the closest body available which had had been nearly a block away. While he was returning to the fight Anderson had caught up to Greer and shot him, puncturing a lung. Jones felt personally responsible for his near death. If only he was better in combat, if he had been able to find someone closer to the scene. If, if, if. Damn Anderson. Never before had the recruit come so close to never rising again. If Greer had died Jones never would have forgiven himself. He might have tried to delete himself again.  
  
But he did not want to think about that now. Greer had accepted his offer of friendship and Jones had been with him every day of his recovery. The recruit would be going to meet Katrina at Monkey Boxing tomorrow in fact. He was returning to active duty day after. But Jones was afraid, he was afraid that when Greer spoke to Katrina again after having spent do long to talking to agent Jones, that the recruit would realize that they were the same person.  
  
Why am I doing this to myself? Jones wondered. Nothing good can come of this deception. I should tell him, maybe he will understand, Greer is reasonable. Greer is a gamer, he will understand the layering of reality and fiction if anyone will. We connect and understand one another. He will comprehend the necessity of my actions. Won't he? If he does not, I will lose his friendship, I will lose any chance I had...  
  
Jones turned away from the monitor and shook his head. Would Greer understand the way that Jones felt about him? Would he accept and return those feelings if they did not come from Katrina? If they did not come from a woman, or a human?  
  
Perhaps he could just let Katrina disappear. If she did not return to Monkey Boxing for their weekly meeting then Greer would have no one but Jones to turn to. That was the best option really, to just let here fade away and to take her place in Greer's life if he could. That way he would neither be lying any longer, nor would he be risking the friendship he had already gained. But he would be causing Greer emotional pain, he knew how much the dark haired man cared for her and how much her unexplained disappearance would hurt him. Jones could not bring himself to knowingly do anything that would cause him distress. Could he? If it was for the best...He did not know. He was more confused than he had ever been in his existence.  
  
Jones started typing again, his slender fingers practically a blur. His office no longer felt like the perfect safe-haven it had been for so very long. The five-sided room, covered in screens of varying descriptions had become containing and oppressive. He thought back to what they had talked about, the first time Greer had spoken with Katrina. Perhaps the screens that he hid behind were not the end but the means to some other end and it took so long to discover. But was the end he was seeking now even feasible? What end was he seeking anyway? He didn't even know, exactly. What would happen if what he wanted happened?  
  
The Agent closed his eyes and took a deep breath closing the document he had finished. It was a perfect fabrication, all the information that would be in a normal human's file was in Katrina's. He had built her a past and a life from the ground up based on nothing but her appearance and the things she said with Greer.  
  
The soft knock on the door startled him, he was so wrapped up in his own contemplations that he jerked around and stared at it as though the sound had come from no where.  
  
The knock came again. "Jones? Are you busy?"  
  
It was Greer's voice which instantly made him feel both infinitely better, and nervous at the same time. He swallowed. "Come in Greer," he responded, requiring the door to unlock.  
  
It swung open; Greer stood in relief framed by the doorway and the much brighter light of the corridor. He was nearly three inches taller than Jones, lean but broad-shouldered and with heavily toned muscles. He had skin of a pale olive color and thick, black hair that came down past his shoulder, perpetually tied back, but forever losing whips which fell in front of his eyes. He had sharp, expressive features, a hawk nose and heavy eyebrows. His eyes were a dark blue-grey like the sea before a storm.  
  
Greer grinned. "Hey Jones, do you always work in the dark?" He gestured to the room, its only illumination the glow of the monitors.  
  
"Generally I do not find this light to be inadequate," Jones replied, requiring another chair and asked amusedly, "Is this a problem?"  
  
The dark haired man snorted. "You're not really an agent, are you? You're a vampire," he accused wryly, sitting down.  
  
"I hardly think I am the most likely candidate for the undead in this room. I have noticed many times that you have unusually pointed teeth, Greer."  
  
"You have discovered my secret, now I vill have to drink your blood," the recruit said in a deliberately bad Dracula imitation.  
  
Jones raised his eyebrow mimicking Greer's own favorite look. "You seem to be rather ill informed, I thought you were aware that Agents did not have blood."  
  
"Ummm... well darn." Greer crossed his arms looking momentarily defeated and then chuckled.  
  
Jones laughed quietly as well. His friend had a strange, eclectic sense of humor and Greer was convinced that if he was in the correct mood Greer could make anything seem funny.  
  
"How are you feeling today?" Jones asked him concernedly; Greer had made a remarkably rapid recovery but the agent was still worried that although both he and the doctors insisted otherwise, he was still hurt.  
  
"I'm fine Jones. I would tell you if I was not fine."  
  
"Very well," he assented. But something seemed to be troubling the young man and Jones couldn't shake the feeling that Greer was not telling the entire truth. Not that I have any right to question that, he thought ruefully. I should tell him. I could do it right now. I will do it.  
  
"I-" he began.  
  
Greer raised a curious eyebrow. "Yes?"  
  
"I have... something to," but he couldn't manage it. "something to give to you," he finished.  
  
"Oh? But it's not even my birthday."  
  
"That file you asked for. I managed to retrieve it for you." He required a hard copy of the file that he had created. It was a thick folder, with many pages of information, observation and photographs. He held it out to the recruit.  
  
"You found it?" he asked, taking it. "What had happened?"  
  
"Simply a filing error, they happen sometimes."  
  
"Well, thanks," he grinned distractedly and opened up the folder. "Katrina Jennifer Conner," he read under his breath. "Date of Birth, April 17. Darn, I missed it."  
  
Jones smiled rather sadly at Greer's preoccupation. "If you wish to inspect it more closely, I have some work I should be doing."  
  
The recruit nodded, his sunglasses slipping accidentally from his head to his nose. "Uh-huh. I'll talk to you later, alright Jones?"  
  
"I look forward to it," he replied.  
  
Greer stood, carrying the folder and left the room again. "See you later."  
  
Jones closed the door behind him, and rested his elbows on the desk and his forehead in the palms of his hands. This was ridiculous! How could he feel jealous of himself? It just didn't make any sense. It must be because Greer seemed to like 'Katrina' better than he liked Jones. What had Jones done to deserve this. It felt like some sort of cosmic punishment, which of course was a thoroughly impossible human superstition, the supposition that any single being was important enough to rate the attention of the universe on a grand scale, or that of a single controlling being. It was ridiculous. Such a being simply did not exist.  
  
***  
  
Greer lay on his stomach on his bed, thumbing through Katrina's file, marveling at how detailed it was. She nineteen, just out of high school. She was majoring in computer science at college and lived on campus. It had her schedule and what classes she'd had missed when and why. Her father had died when she was eight and she was an only child. She had taken dance classes with a woman named Madam Antoinette from age nine to age sixteen. She had gotten a cat named Coco when she was four and it had died last year. Her first job had been at a supermarket, now she worked part time at a large chain bookstore. She had gotten abysmal grades in home economics and French class. One of her favorite bands was 'Nightwish' a fact he had already know but was amazed that it had been included. She hadn't dated since her sophomore year of high school when her boyfriend, a goth named Mark Howe who called himself Marius, dumped her for Mary Shaffer, a cheerleader. She'd gotten into video games when she was thirteen and computers a year later. She wanted to be a video game designer and programmer. She did yoga on Tuesday afternoons, her laundry on Sunday mornings at the Bubbly Laundromat three miles from her college. She spent Thursday evenings with a young man names Vincent N. Greer who was an Agent recruit.  
  
Greer picked up one of the photographs paper-clipped to the file. It was from three years ago when she had still been in dance class, she was facing the camera in a graceful ballet pose, on her tip toes, her brown hair in a bun, wearing a black leotard and leg warmers. He set the picture down. Tomorrow was Thursday and he would be going to see her again. Last week he'd still hadn't been able to get out of bed because of his injury. Not knowing her phone number, though he now did, he'd called Monkey Boxing and had the manager tell her he wouldn't be there.  
  
He closed the folder and set it on his bedside table. It felt wrong reading too much of it. It felt like he was spying on her; he should have just waited until tomorrow and asked her about herself. Why hadn't he? He rolled over on his back and looked up at the clean white ceiling, angry with himself for being so impatient. He realized too that it had been rude for him to run out on Jones like that earlier, he had been so engrossed in Katrina's file he hadn't noticed the neglected, almost hurt look that the Agent had given him. Agent Jones was his friend, and he owed him his life besides and he had acted as though reading Katrina's file was more important than talking to him. He hadn't seen it then but now he recognized the jealousy in Jones' eyes when he'd told Greer he had work to do. Greer cursed himself for a fool. Jones wasn't Brown, he had feelings and Greer had hurt them.  
  
The recruit stood, he'd go apologize right now. He hurried out of the room and jogged down the hallway, sideways on the wall just for fun and so he'd avoid knocking anyone down. And he'd invite Jones to come with him out to Monkey Boxing tomorrow night. Talking with both of them would be very cool. Jones and Katrina would get along really well, Greer thought. And then he'll see I value his friendship just as much as Katrina's. Maybe more, after all, I can't talk to Katrina about fighting rebels or those stupid nightmares I've been having...  
  
But he hadn't told Jones about the nightmares either. Maybe he should, after all, Jones already seemed to sense that there was something wrong that Greer wasn't telling him.  
  
Greer briefly considered putting himself back on the floor as he got to Jones' office but with a grin, did the opposite instead. Standing on the ceiling in front of the agent's door his ponytail hanging down, he knocked.  
  
And as he had hoped, this time Jones actually answered the door.  
  
"Hell-o?" he took a step backwards, surprised.  
  
"Hey Jones," Greer grinned, waving. "What's up?"  
  
Jones smiled and laughed. "You are, it seems. I did not expect to see you again this evening. Certainly not at this angle."  
  
Now Greer frowned and flipped down to the floor, landing in a crouch before standing up. "Yeah, about that. I wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly this afternoon."  
  
The Agent seemed surprised. "you do not have to apologize, I had work that- "  
  
"You always have work. And yes, I do have to. I'm sorry," he lowered his eyes slightly in deference.  
  
"Apology accepted Greer," Jones put a hand on his shoulder. "Would you like to come in?"  
  
Greer looked up, a little surprised at the physical contact that Jones usually avoided, but nodded. "Sure. I'd love to."  
  
Jones took his sunglasses off as they walked inside and the lights came on, something Greer suspected Jones only did in company when that company was the recruit. They sat down in the familiar grey swiveling chairs. Jones really did seem glad to see him. Greer realized he had forgotten to change out of the comfortable grey tracksuit that recruits wore for training. He briefly considered requiring a change, but decided there was no need.  
  
"Were you training?" Jones asked, apparently noticing the attire as well.  
  
Greer shook his head. "Nah, just hanging around in my pajamas. Do you like them?"  
  
"They are not plaid," the agent said with a wry smile. "Are not human pajamas usually plaid?"  
  
"I don't like plaid," he refuted.  
  
"Oh? What have you got against plaid?"  
  
"It reminds me of Clark Kent," he chuckled easily, running his hand through his hair and realizing he wasn't even wearing his sunglasses, he'd left them on the nightstand.  
  
"Now you have something against Superman? I was under the impression you liked superheros."  
  
"Superman is too much of a goody-two-shoes, and he's too perfect. Give me a nice, angsty, hard up super hero any day. Give me Spiderman, or Wolverine."  
  
Jones chuckled quietly. "You are a strange person Greer."  
  
"And what have you got against strange people, huh?" he teased.  
  
"Absolutely nothing," he replied, spreading his hands in a gesture of agreement.  
  
Then Greer remembered what he's wanted to ask him. "Hey, Joes, do you want to come with me to Monkey Boxing tomorrow? I'd like you to meet Katrina."  
  
Jones looked very, very taken aback. He blinked twice, and then seemed to come back around "I'm sorry, Greer," he shook his head. "There is, a mainframe experiment scheduled for tomorrow night that a must assist."  
  
Greer frowned. "Can't you re-schedule it?"  
  
Jones shook his head again. "I'm afraid the mainframe would not permit an agent to take leisure time in the place of duty. Unlike recruits, such things are not supposed to be necessary for us."  
  
"Well that sucks. Maybe I should tell Katrina I can't make it tomorrow and save my leave time for some time your not busy. We can go drinking or something. Do you drink?"  
  
"I can imbibe liquids as humans do, but I am unsure as to whether of not I can get 'drunk'," he replied, furrowing his brow. "But please, do not change you plans on my account. Perhaps the test will not take very long and I will be able to meet you at the club."  
  
"Well, if you're sure..."He sighed. "Jones, can I tell you something?"  
  
The agent looked up curiously. "Yes, certainly."  
  
"I've been having these nightmares for the past few weeks, not really about anything, just these chaotic disconnected images and voices, but for some reason it's absolutely terrifying," he said gravely. "I always wake up sweating and panting and shaking. "  
  
Jones looked worried and upset. "I am sorry. Do you have any idea what may be causing these nightmares? How long have you had them?"  
  
Greer shook his head. "Since about a week before I got...hurt, and I donno. But, the day before they recruited Yami, when I woke up..." he trailed off.  
  
"Yes?" Jones urged him to go on.  
  
"I woke up and for a few seconds I couldn't get control my power. That hadn't happened since the hospital, and it hasn't happened since that morning, but, Jones, I'm worried."  
  
Jones nodded. ""You have a right to be," he said. "I am worried as well. We have no idea what causes your telephonic perception, but with the only other case ending as it did..." Jones' green eyes were full of a deep apprehension and Greer wouldn't have said anything if he'd known it would make his friend this upset.  
  
"I'm sure it was nothing," Greer said. "Just the nightmare got to me so bad. I mean, you don't even know for a fact that it was the gift that made them snap, do you? The Edmund twins might just have been a couple of crazies."  
  
"Maybe," Jones murmured, not sounding convinced. "But I am going to do all that I can to divine the nature of this 'gift'." There was a deeply protective edge in the Agent's voice.  
  
Greer nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, trying to think of something to change the subject to.  
  
Jones seemed to sense his tension and filled the gap smoothly. "I believe you have mentioned that you are a 'gamer', yes?"  
  
Greer nodded. "Yes."  
  
"And you know that the agency computers are tied into all computers, even those not connected to the internet."  
  
Again the recruit nodded.  
  
"Has it occurred to you that that means you can access the unfinished games at any level of completion through their company computers?"  
  
Greer's mouth practically fell open. "...You're right! I never thought of that." He was amazed.  
  
"Would you like me to show you how to get in?"  
  
"Would you?"  
  
"I would not have offered otherwise." Jones lay his hands on the keyboard. "Just open up the directory and type in the name of the company files you want to access." He looked at Greer.  
  
"Oh, mm, try Square. I'd love to see how the next Final Fantasy is coming."  
  
Jones nodded.  
  
***  
  
Greer had spent hours searching corporate computer files with Jones, who apparently had as much of an interest in video games as he did. He thought it was ironic and intriguing that humans had such a fascination with such things, he had said he had become fascinated too, and had even designed a videogame or two.  
  
"You did?" Greer demanded. "Show me."  
  
Jones pursed his lips, as though reluctant to do so but then opened a hidden file. The title 'Virtual World that Seems Really Real Smackdown' came up on screen accompanied by what looked like a caricature of agent Smith giving the peace sign.  
  
Greer raised an eyebrow. Jones smirked and called up the main menu for the game, handing Greer a controller.  
  
"It's a battle simulation game," he explained selecting two player mode and bringing up the character selection.  
  
Greer was amused and quite surprised to find that it featured comical agents fighting rebels dressed and named in a spectacular parody of the reality. Highlighting various characters he saw Dream Master, who looked like a cross between Morpheus and a gangsta rapper (watch out for his boring speech attack!), 0003, a butched out Trinity with a shaved head and spiked shoulder pads (oh my god, is that really Female?). There were several others but Greer selected Neon, the Other One, a caricature of Anderson wearing a ridiculous number of zippers, boots that went up to his thighs instead of pants, and a coat so long he that the information box said he alternately tripped on it and threw it at his opponent.  
  
"You didn't really design all this, did you?" Greer stared at him, amazed at the witty irreverence the game displayed and trying to reconcile it with the image of the mild mannered tech agent. It didn't seem to fit but Greer realized it was that way with a lot of computer people, it was that way with himself quite often. Those people who only saw him fighting, or read his psychology homework wouldn't be able to see him leaving bizarre posts on gaming message boards and reading Mario Bros. fanfiction. Beneath the exterior it seemed, Jones was more complex than Greer had guessed, even knowing that he had emotions.  
  
Jones alternately ran through a smaller selection of truly Bizarre agents, Agent Smiley whose suit had yellow smiley faces all over it that Smith would probably kill over (kicks your butt with a smile and a wave) , Agent Phones had keyboard with him that was on a hilt like a sword and Greer was surprised Jones could poke fun at himself like that (the notepad is mightier than the sword) But Jones had used Agent Dirt, a parody of Agent Brown whose pants went up to his chest and had a large pimple on his nose (With the power of strict interpretations!)  
  
"You designed all this?" Greer repeated as the fight began.  
  
Jones nodded. "I had considered making an RPG instead, but the idea for this struck me." He shrugged. "I also considered sending it to a company for distribution but it occurred to me that Smith might be, displeased, were he to discover it.  
  
The environment, a dark alley way was beautifully rendered and the junk on the street was fully manipulatable. Jones threw a cat at him, and time slowed down so he could dodge it. As they fought Dirt spoke in an expertly synthesized Brown voice and said things like 'Please stop, you are offending my delicate sensibilities', 'I would beat you with a stick, but I cannot seem to find it' and 'Please hit me some more, I am a jerk!' Whereas Neon said ridiculous phrases like 'Ho ha hwa! My coat of doom will beat you senseless!', ' Fear my deranged death wish! Ki-ah!' and when he was hit, 'That is only a flesh wound! I stubbornly refuse to die!'  
  
Greer was practically in hysterics by the time the match was finished (He was so distracted laughing that Jones had beaten him.) Jones seemed amused.  
  
"You are enjoying playing it?" he asked.  
  
Greer, regaining control and brining his laugh back down to a chuckled nodded. "This is the best game I've ever played Jones. The best graphics, best battle system. And I have never seen anything funnier."  
  
Jones smiled. "You are the first person I have shown," he admitted. "I am glad you like it."  
  
"How come you haven't shown Stef? I bet she'd like it."  
  
Jones bit his lip. "The hidden character I added a few months ago." He went up to the top of the character menu and selected the second letter R in the title. This brought up the specs for Another agent character Agent Honey and her suit was...greatly abbreviated, to black short Shorts, a white tube top (or was it a bra?) and a tie. (The wisecracking Agent with amazing Come back from the dead powers!)  
  
Greer snorted. "I guess I can see why you didn't show her," he managed through a chuckle. "Come back from the dead powers?" He raised an eyebrow.  
  
Jones shrugged. "The game is based on a specific blending of genres, I simply twisted the details to make them humorous. Such as Agent Smiley."  
  
"Riiiight, art imitating life," Greer nodded. "Well, you certainly managed the humor really well. Of course it probably wouldn't be quite as funny if the player didn't have a basis in the reality of the whole thing."  
  
"Likely not," the agent agreed. "Unfortunately very few with the appropriate grounding in the details would appreciate its comical qualities."  
  
"Maybe you should leave it on the net somewhere for rebels to find. I bet it would both offend and confuse the hell out of them." He laughed. "And then, next time your out in the field, I can picture you asking 'And what is your opinion of the game 'Virtual World that Seems Really Real Smackdown'?"  
  
Jones laughed quietly. "I am afraid I would not be so bold as to put it out for distribution among the internet community."  
  
"Why not? Maybe it will discourage potentials when they see rebels. 'Are you guys supposed to be from that game?' and then Anderson grits his teeth. 'God I hate that game'." The recruit laughed, having meant it as a joke, but he saw that Jones seemed to seriously be considering it.  
  
"Perhaps that is not such a bad idea," he mused. "Distribution and response, and a decent alibi when Agent Smith demands to know where it came from."  
  
Taking a last glance as Jones shut down the game the thought that if he ever needed reminding that the agent had emotions all he would have to do is remember 'Virtual World that seems Really Real Smackdown'. "Hey, Jones, when exactly did you find the time to make that?"  
  
"There are only so many anomalies and glitches in the matrix at any given time, and agents do not sleep. I am also of course, able to work much more quickly than human programmers. Perhaps I have a keener understanding of the nature of the craft. I began creating this shortly after you were recruited and finished it two weeks ago."  
  
Greer stared at him. "Four months? It took you less than four months to create all that?"  
  
Jones nodded. "That is however not counting the research I did into human popular culture in order to discover how to portray each character the most humorously."  
  
The gamer recruit couldn't think of anything to say. Then his amused chuckle was caught off guard and turned into a yawn.  
  
Jones eyes flickered to one of the monitors with a readout Greer didn't understand, the agent seemed surprised. "It is quite late, or rather early. I should not have kept you awake so long. The fact that you require sleep I am afraid, slipped my mind."  
  
The dark haired young man chuckled again and realized just how tired he was, but said, "Don't worry about it I stay up this late all the time."  
  
Jones frowned. "No. You require rest, I will not be responsible for loss of health due to lack of sleep."  
  
"Oh yeah?" he raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't want to go to bed?"  
  
"Consider it an order, recruit."  
  
"Well, fine then," Greer stood up stretching. "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"This afternoon more likely. It is seven am."  
  
"Oh." Well, he hadn't realized it was quite that late...early. "See you later then." He opened the door and shuffled out of the room, the weight of not having slept in 24 hours catching up with him.  
  
"Sleep well," Jones murmured after him.  
  
***  
  
After Greer had left Jones put his earpiece back on and called up all of his control screens. He had neglected doing any actual work at all for several hours. He hoped it had not been a bad night for anomalies. The time had passed amazingly quickly in Greer's presence. Jones ran the algorithms that began searching for errors in the matrix. While the green code scrolled by he realized he was much calmer than he had before Greer had come in and that much of the tension that had gripped him had dispersed. He had been amused by the recruit's reaction to the game, until then he had been unsure as to whether he had succeeded in making it entertaining. It had amused him, certainly but he had no idea whether he was at all a judge of what was funny and what was not. He had created it rather blindly attempting to mesh cultural references with which he was relatively unfamiliar with what he knew, the matrix, rebels versus agents. He shook his head, thinking of what Brown might do upon discovering the game. Most likely he would petition to have Jones deleted on the grounds that he had become completely unstable. Although, Jones wasn't sure Brown would be able to understand the concept of 'parody'.  
  
The monitor beeped having discovered an error. Jones pulled up the map of the area, and a description of the error. It was a simple special glitch, he could repair it from his desk. He pulled up the next map, magnified it, and again until the display showed a patch of wall in the basement of a house that kept flickering in and out of existence. The code had just degraded and corrupted slightly and it was easy enough for Jones to reinstate the original coding, leaving the wall completely normal.  
  
But one thing was weighing on Jones, what Greer had said at the beginning of his visit, inviting him to come and meet Katrina. He smirked sadly, if only he knew. The offer had caught him completely off balance and he had struggled to come up with a reason that he would be unable to accompany the recruit on his outing. There was no way that Jones could be in the same room as Katrina, he had to be in his office in order to manipulate the construct, and even if he could figure out some way to pilot her while he was there in person he thought that Greer would certainly suspect something if he and Katrina alternately spoke and fell silent. He could not hold up two sides of a conversation at once.  
  
Jones sighed, pulling up the next minor anomaly. He wished now that he had let Greer cancel with Katrina, interacting with him in person was much different than watching and responding from behind a screen. Rather like the difference between voice chat and really talking to someone, he supposed. But he was stuck for it now, he would have to stay here and control Katrina. Or would he? Jones licked his lips, perhaps not. He turned around looking away from the monitor he had been working at.  
  
The worst that could happen right now was that it would not work. He placed his hands in his lap and thought 'require: form of construct Katrina'. Jones felt something change. He looked down at his hands, they were long with delicately manicured and lacquered nails. The were Katrina's hands. He required a mirror. His face was Katrina's face as well, soft featured and smooth skinned with brown hair up in a bun. It had worked. He would be able to interact with Greer in person, as Katrina. He required his own form again.  
  
But it was still a lie, wasn't it? Even if he could take Katrina's form, it still was him, and Katrina still didn't exist. He rubbed his temples, he had been analyzing and reanalyzing the same bits of data he had given himself a 'head ache'. It happened sometimes when files were accessed to frequently the coding would begin to skip and disconnect causing discomfort. The only thing for it really was to stop concentrating on it so much. Maybe one day he'd find a better remedy, but for now all he could do was distract himself. He turned back to the monitor intending to sink himself into his duties.  
  
Someone knocked on the door, sharply, purposefully. Jones glanced at the scrolling code that served as his peep hole. It was agent Smith. Jones' headache got suddenly worse; he had forgotten to give his daily report. For the first time in his century plus of existence, he had forgotten to complete one of his primary functions.  
  
"Come in," he said hastily, putting on his sunglasses and attempting to create some excuse for his oversight. Smith knew about his eyes of course, but Jones felt safer with the glasses between him and the senior agent.  
  
The door opened and Smith strode deliberately in.  
  
"Agent Jones, why did I not receive your report?" he asked, getting straight to the point.  
  
"My apologies, Agent Smith. I was unable to give my report on time due to the fact that a portion of my system was corrupted when I encountered rebel posting of an internet message board," Jones lied quickly and more smoothly than his conscience would have liked. "There was a virus attached which got through my firewall, and it took me some time to restore the files and secure the block. Would you like my report now?"  
  
Smith nodded.  
  
"The rebel posts were untraceable but disabled. I was able to remotely repair a minor spatial error in sector g33K quadrant beta , and a gravitational anomaly in n664F quadrant delta."  
  
"Is that the extent of your report?"  
  
Jones nodded, afraid that Smith would discover his deception.  
  
"Acknowledged. Carry on." He turned and walked out of Jones' office closing the door behind him.  
  
Jones felt immensely relieved, Smith had not questioned his report. Why should he? Jones had never lied to him before, it was just something that Agents didn't do. But Jones had now, to cover up for the fact that he had been neglecting his duties in favor of interacting with a recruit. This was not acceptable behavior. He shook his head. He had lied to Smith, his superior, he was continually lying to Greer, his friend, his only friend.  
  
The agent required a self diagnostic. He already knew he had accessed certain files too often, but his code was stable, there were no corrupted spots or viruses. Nothing.  
  
But that wasn't right. This couldn't be normal, could it? The mainframe had created Agents to be adaptable, continually growing and acquiring new subroutines, becoming more effective. Could it have meant for them to eventually develop human emotions? Jones wondered sometimes about its apparent preoccupation with human motivations; the continual experiments. The experiment with the children, the experiment with Greer that Jones did not know had ever been concluded as the mainframe had disallowed him access. Jones wondered about that, too.  
  
Jones shook his head. This was getting him nowhere, it was giving him a headache and he had work to do. He turned back to the monitor.  
  
***  
  
Greer didn't wake up until three in the afternoon. He felt groggy and not particularly well rested, but he hadn't had any nightmares. He hoped that maybe they were gone for good, maybe all he'd needed to do was tell someone about them. He sat up in bed and required himself a cup of coffee; smelled it and took a sip of the hot, bitter liquid. It was funny, required coffee, even just plain black, was better than any coffee he'd had before becoming a recruit. He supposed it was because when he required things the mainframe gave him exactly what he wanted.  
  
The recruit smiled blearily and let the caffeine slowly begin to return wakefulness to his senses. It was two hours before he'd go to meet Katrina, and by the feel of it he'd need that time to wake himself up. He hadn't slept on quite such a night-owl schedule since his last day in his apartment as a 'normal' guy. The return to such sleeping hours combined with the effect of several weeks of ill-rest in general seemed to have taken a lot out of him. Not to mention his brush with death. He wasn't thinking particularly clearly which didn't bode well for his return to active duty the next day. He'd just have to get plenty of rest tonight and hope that the nightmares didn't come back.  
  
He ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. He could use a shower, he though, and stood, shuffling across the room and opening the bathroom door, thankful that recruits weren't required to share such facilities. A glance in the mirror above the sink told him that his color was rather off, paler and rather more sallow than usual, but that was probably due to having recently had a life threatening wound. He winced at the thought of it and rubbed his palms together habitually. With a sigh he required himself out of his clothing, turned the water on and waited for it to get hot before stepping in to the shower.  
  
He hissed as the first drops of water hit him, rather hotter than he had been altogether prepared for, but it took less than a moment for the sensation to go from painful to soothing. He closed his eyes, letting the hot water and steam that was quickly filling the bathroom relax him, helping some to unknot his muscles which had become quite tense somewhere in the past few days.  
  
I certainly wouldn't say 'no' to backrub about now, he thought ruefully. I wonder if anyone around here would mind if I hired masseuse? Or have they already got one programmed? Of course, I could always ask that Anne girl who's forever switching her 'attentions'. She'd expect something in return though, and I'm not particularly fond of the way she looks at us all as if we were some sort of exotic food...I wonder what Stef would do if I asked her?  
  
His thoughts turned idly to the brown haired lady-agent and her sure smile. As he scrubbed himself roughly with a bar of soap he wondered, not for the first time, why it was that he had only ever seen the one female among the ranks of the agents. Of course, there were a lot of things slightly off about Mimosa besides her gender, the fact that she actually had a first name was rather high on the list, well, that and her odd behavior. But unlike most recruits he was no longer under the illusion that all agents had the same dead personality Brown possessed. Even Smith had flashes of occasional humor, and Greer often sensed a dry, ironic wit in even the most common place things he said. And of course there was Jones...  
  
Jones, he thought, rather reminded him of a kid he had known in high school, David Madison, a rather painfully shy boy in his computer programming class. David wore ridiculously thick glasses and had never seemed particularly inclined to talk to anyone but the teachers. They had been friends in a strange, vague sort of way, the two got on quite well during class, talking about school assignments and who they didn't like, television and computers and stuff, but every time Greer had suggested they hang out or do anything outside the context of the computer lab, David would go rather pale and make up some excuse about why he hadn't been able to. Greer gave up the attempt after a while.  
  
David had also rather unfortunately been something of a bully-magnet. A day rarely went by when the boy didn't have a new set of bruises, or sometimes Greer would stumble across a session in progress. The few times this happened he would chase the bastards off, inquire as to David's state of health and offer to make sure the guys never bothered him again. David for a reason that hadn't been clear at the time, invariably declined. He said it would only make him look even more like he couldn't stand up for himself. Greer refrained form pointing out that for all intents and purposes it looked like he couldn't.  
  
The was water was getting slightly cold, and Greer adjusted it back up a notch without breaking his train of thought. Some recruits were always wondering why the water got cold at all, but Greer knew it was for that touch of homey realism that could keep a person from going over the edge.  
  
David, anyway, had continued this self same pattern for two years before anything happened. Greer wasn't there himself, he found out about it second hand. Three guys from the football team cornered David after school one day, determined to once again beat the shit out of him. But this time had been different than any of the other times, this time the boy had successfully defended himself, a little too successfully; one of the jocks was dead, the other two insisted that David had come after them with a janitor's bucket.  
  
Greer went to see him the day before his court appearance. It was all true, he found out. David had been teaching himself martial arts from books and tapes for three years and had finally had the sense to try it out. He claimed to barely have even realized what he was doing, grabbing the bucket and hitting the one jock repeatedly with it, that particular jock had had a knife. David's lawyer got him off understandably on self-defense, but David had moved away rather than go back to the school.  
  
Greer shook his head, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of the thick, raven hair that fell nearly down to the small of his back. Yes, Jones reminded him a lot of David, especially when David had been telling him about the incident. His voice had been calm, but his eyes betrayed a deep anger, not that the jocks had hurt him, but that they had forced David to sink so low as to take a human life, even if it had been unintentional. Greer saw that same anger in Jones' green eyes on the few occasions when the two of them talked about the rebels.  
  
Greer shut off the water and pulled open the shower curtain, requiring a towel. The bathroom was filled with an eerie haze of steam and Greer rubbed the mirror with his palm, it squeaked and cleared a streak of glass just enough to see a misty reflection of the recruit's stormy blue eyes. From the look of it, he thought as he dried himself off, he'd been in the shower rather longer than he'd intended. That always seemed to happen when he was in the water, swimming, bathing or showering; his mind would drift into a certain malleable state almost like dreaming. He tried to remember what had set off the particular train of thought that he'd ended with, but it was no more use than trying to catch hold of thin air.  
  
***  
  
In his office Jones was caught in a terrible state of indecision. Of course, Greer was already on his way, and if the agent didn't make a conscious choice soon, time would make it for him.  
  
Small wisps of his short brown hair were falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision but he didn't spare the concentration to remove them. It was the same argument he'd had with himself earlier and never come to a decision on, whether or not to continue the Katrina deception. As far as he could tell he had three options: one, tell Greer outright what he'd been doing, two, simply stop playing Katrina and let her disappear into thin air, or three, keep on with it. He weighed them against each other, watching in his monitor Greer walk the short distance to Monkey Boxing.  
  
The first had the highest possible margin of gain and therefore the highest possible risk factor. Confessing the truth to Greer could obtain the relationship Jones desired without the false medium of Katrina. That was if Greer understood and accepted what Jones had been doing and why and forgave him for it. Even if that happened, there were...varying degrees of success this might have. There was too the possibility that Greer would not understand and would not forgive him, stop talking to him, and even possibly inform agent Brown of Jones' aberrant behavior. This last detail was not likely, but it was possible, and Jones had to go over every possibility.  
  
The second option was rather less daring. Deleting the Katrina construct and adding her relocation or even death to the file could have the effect of bringing Greer closer to him, allowing him to work towards the deeper friendship he desired. However, it might also alienate him and cause him to withdraw further back into himself than he had been even when he had originally been recruited. Either way, Greer would definitely feel hurt and angry at Katrina's disappearance or death and the last thing Jones wanted was to cause him grief.  
  
The third option was cowardly in the face of the alternatives. To continue to deceive the person he cared about would be a terrible betrayal. But it would keep Greer from being angry or hurt and would maintain the situation as it was currently, a situation which was not particularly bad. If however, Greer was to discover the truth for himself somehow Jones thought he would probably not be nearly as understanding as if Jones told him. Greer was normally calm, but when angered sometimes a rage like an inferno would well up inside him and burst out.  
  
Of the three, the second certainly seemed the safest option. Even if Greer were to be distraught with Katrina, he would not connect it with Jones. Even if the recruit drifted away into himself at least Jones would not have to have felt the power of that terrible emotion, that burning anger, directed at him.  
  
Jones face shone pale in the illumination of the monitor, his green eyes reflecting twin squares of light. Greer was walking into the strange atmosphere of Monkey Boxing and Katrina was not there to meet him.  
  
Jones pulled the visual in for a close-up of the recruits face as he raised an eyebrow, but sat unworriedly down on a tatami mat at the usual low table. He smiled, ordering a drink from the waitress, her face painted white and wearing the silky kimono of a geisha, the bitter rice-wine, sake, that Greer always drank.  
  
Framed by the screen was Greer's figure, his face angular, his chin strong, eyebrows heavy and nose rather like a beak. His shoulders, beneath his grey tank top were broad and muscled, his arms powerful and his hands large. He was tall, just the tiniest fraction taller than agent Brown in fact, but he seemed taller because of his more slender build around the waist. Some would have said that the recruit was ugly, but Jones would have strongly disagreed with them, there was something very noble in the way he held himself, and his face showed a deeply etched and strong character. His dark blue eyes beneath his heavy brows were his most expressive feature and his long hair gave him a regal appearance. The shadows and strange lighting of the club reinforced an ever-present air of the mysterious that hung about him. He sat quietly, sipping his drink.  
  
Suddenly Jones could not bear to have the recruit sitting there alone. For one dizzy moment he was on the verge of standing up and going himself, but it passed all too quickly and instead he spoke aloud.  
  
"Require: activate Katrina construct."  
  
At the same he flicked the monitor to display Katrina's point of view, and positioned fingers on the keyboard to pilot her. His hand on the mouse he guided her out of the alley and into the club. He didn't bother trying the trick he had discovered earlier, becoming Katrina. It wasn't what was currently on his mind.  
  
*** "Sorry I'm late," Katrina said softly sitting down on the other side of the low table.  
  
"It's fine," Greer said with a grin, waving negligently. "I haven't been here very long."  
  
"I had a run in with my land lord," she explained, "the woman in 4d has been complaining about my music again. You would think if she was as deaf as she claims..."  
  
The recruit smirked and nodded sympathetically. "Nobody can get quite as contradictory as a mad old lady. My grandmother for instance, wonderful woman that she was, forced me to eat her horrible ginger cookies and then complained of crumbs all over her couch. She would rant for hours. It was awful. Every once in a while she'd get out her cane and brandish it at me," he waved his hand to demonstrate. "Never actually hit me, but scared me half to death."  
  
"Were there actually any crumbs ever?" she cocked her head slightly to the side curiously.  
  
He shrugged banishing the weird feeling that her gesture continually gave him, "Of course, I was five."  
  
Katrina laughed her tinkling little laugh. She was in one of her simple outfits today, rather than one of her extravagant ones, her wardrobe seemed to be split down the middle between comfort and shock value. She was wearing a loose black shirt, long sleeved, and black jeans. Her brown hair was up in a bun as it sometimes was, with plain black chopsticks, and her only jewelry was a pair of small emerald green earrings that matched her eyes.  
  
"And then I was six," he continued wryly, "then twelve. Then-" He chuckled. "That's right, I forgot. She did hit me the once.  
  
Her gaze filled with concern. "She did?"  
  
"Yeah, last year," he rubbed his shoulder, his grin becoming lopsided. "I'm still convinced she broke something."  
  
Katrina smiled and shook her head. "You are something else, Greer."  
  
"Yeah," he said, his grin fading just a little. He wanted to be able to tell Katrina more about himself. He wanted to tell her everything, just so she'd know and maybe even to tell her a few tales of his own daring and prowess. But he couldn't.  
  
Two tables over a handsome, sharp featured blond boy was explaining to a boy with messy black hair and large glasses how he'd beaten his DM's ultimate boss with only a fifth level wizard.  
  
"Are you alright?" Katrina asked. "Did you hear what I said?"  
  
Greer realized he'd been staring and snapped back to the conversation. "Huh? No, I'm sorry Katrina, I completely zoned out." He smiled sheepishly.  
  
"I asked if you'd done anything particularly interesting recently."  
  
The raven haired young shrugged uncomfortable. "Not really, well, actually, you might think this is interesting. You told me you want to be a game designer right?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Well, I've got this other friend who does it too, unprofessionally, but he's the best I've ever seen. Of course he only told me the other day, but he showed me the game he was working on." It was kinda funny, now that he thought about it, that Jones and Katrina both wanted to do the same thing, but he supposed it was the sort of people he associated with.  
  
Greer saw Katrina's eyes flicker, with interest he assumed, and went on. "It's really awesome. It's a pseudo-mortal kombat style game but like nothing you've ever seen. The graphics are amazing, and not only can you use karate, you can use guns and any other weapons you find. And you can slow down time to dodge bullets and do all kinds of awesome moves. But the character design is absolutely hilarious! Ingenious," Greer had started chuckling himself, remembering the game.  
  
"That sounds fascinating. What's your friend like?"  
  
"Well," he thought of the right way to tell her about Jones. He wondered what to say about him anyway; how to describe the man? "Well, he's a computer genius obviously, absolutely fanatical. He's really mellow though, not spastic like some of the ones you meet. Calm and collected." He frowned. "Actually, I think he can get really depressed some time," he said, only just then realizing it himself. "He gets these bouts of melancholy and this far away look in his eyes. He used to have this...drug problem, he tells me, I guess that might have something to do with it."  
  
But Greer was feeling rather uncomfortable now, and mumbling more to himself than to Katrina. "He's normally really open around me, at least...but every once in a while, I get this awful feeling that there's something he's not telling me...something really important. I asked him to come today, knew you wouldn't mind, but he said he had...work to do." He heaved a sigh. "I wish I knew what was wrong... He, well, he pretty much saved my life..."  
  
He looked up then, Katrina's eyes were wide and sad. Greer had no idea why. "I'm sorry Kat, I'm boring you, I shouldn't be burdening you with my problems."  
  
"No. No," she said quietly. "It's fine, you, you ...care about him?"  
  
He nodded emphatically. "Yes I do."  
  
"A lot?" there was a strange note in her voice, a melancholic, but for some reason a hopeful tone.  
  
"Yeah, a lot," he said, realizing for the first time how much.  
  
"More than me?"  
  
Greer reeled. "What?! I didn't mean! I'm just worried about him," he sputtered apologetically.  
  
Then she seemed abashed and apologetic herself. "No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way at all. It came out wrong."  
  
He nodded, "Yeah, that can happen. It comes out all wrong. I know how it feels when things come out wrong." He steeled himself. He realized that he had to tell her that the relationship couldn't get any deeper than it was. He was a recruit, there was no way, and he was walking a fine line. He didn't want to do it, didn't want to hurt her, if as it sometimes seemed, that she was in love with him. But he had to.  
  
"Katrina," he said slowly. making sure he said only what he meant to and that there were no mistaken meanings. "You and I are friends, right?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
He continued carefully. "We've been coming here for a few months and every time we talk about TV and movies, philosophy, politics, video games, whatever. But I've never told you anything about my life. And, I'm sorry, but there's no possible way I can tell you. I'm sorry if it's not what you want, but these meetings here are all there can ever and will ever be between us."  
  
Greer had braced himself for tears, he had braced himself for confusion or anger. He had not expected her normally poignant expression to break into a bright, relieved smile.  
  
"Honestly?" she demanded.  
  
The recruit goggled at her. "Um, well, yeah..." He blinked several times and shook his head slightly trying to discern if he had suddenly gone completely insane.  
  
"You are not just saying it to make me feel better?"  
  
This one really confused him. "Huh? No, why on earth would- how does it make you feel better?" he demanded, Greer was used to being in control of the situation and this, this definitely threw him.  
  
"Well er," Katrina started, "I was worried that you were in love h-me." She looked anxious and embarrassed.  
  
"It's not that I don't like you Kat, because I do. But it wouldn't work out. My life doesn't have room for that sort of relationship right now."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It.." he hesitated. "It has to do with my line of work. It's rather life consuming."  
  
She nodded. "I understand."  
  
"But you aren't in love with me?"  
  
"No."  
  
He sighed. "I suppose that's a good thing." It stung a little though, because he did care about her. He did want to be with her, but it was impossible. "Is there someone else?"  
  
She shifted uncomfortably. "In a manner of speaking."  
  
***  
  
Jones watched Greer in the monitor tensely. So he did like Katrina. Was that a good thing? After all, she was only an expression of the agent himself. Perhaps...  
  
"Ah," the recruit nodded, not inquiring any further into the cryptic statement.  
  
Jones was silent for a moment, watching the dark haired man, whose eyes had become rather forlorn. He realized that he would never have a better time to revel the truth to him. It was a precarious situation, Greer had revealed that he did care for Katrina in some manner, although he had avoided revealing their specific nature, if there were ever going to be a good time for Jones to reveal himself it was now. But he was still afraid that Greer would become angry with him, see it as a trick, a betrayal. The agent winced, he half felt that he would deserve such a response.  
  
The agent drew on all his nerve, it was now, or it was never. Jones' hands were shaking like the day he had been purged from his addiction.  
  
"Greer."  
  
"Yes?" he asked with a small smile.  
  
Jones closed his eyes. "I have, something else that I must tell you. I have not been truthful with you about my nature."  
  
"Oh god," Greer's voice was full of apprehension. "You're a rebel."  
  
He snorted, looking back at the screen and smirking. "Hardly."  
  
He seemed surprised. "No? But... you know what I'm talking about?" He furrowed his brow.  
  
"Yes I do," he nodded.  
  
"How?"  
  
"I...I am going to leave the bar for a moment Greer, and then I will come back, and I believe you will understand. Is that alright?"  
  
Greer nodded slowly. He seemed to have noticed 'her' slight change in speech pattern, but Jones could not tell if he recognized it.  
  
This was the hardest thing had done in his existence, more difficult even than giving up mainframe access. He guided Katrina up and out of the bar, and shut her off in an alley. He had to do it now, there was no possible way to go back, he had left himself without any other options. He stood up, quickly scanning the code monitor for nearby people, and pulled out his earpiece.  
  
He shifted to an older man across the street from the club. He walked across, seeing the club for the first time outside of a monitor. Not wanting to be stared at when he walked in, he removed his tie and jacket, requiring them away.  
  
Jones put his hand on the door knob. If he hand been human, he probably would have been sweating heavily. He turned the doorknob, in a moment the truth would be laid bare.  
  
Monkey Boxing was noisier than he had experienced it before, and it smelled of perfume and liquor; smoke, sweat and incense. The people had a sharp, technicolor edge, and the lights cast strange shadows on the walls.  
  
He looked at the table where Greer sat, and saw him notice.  
  
"Jones," his face split into a surprised grin. "You made it! I knew you could get off. Did you see Katrina outside? She said there was something she wanted to tell me."  
  
The agent became at once twice as nervous and uncomfortable as he walked over and sat down where Katrina had been.  
  
Greer frowned. "Um, Kat was sitting there actually..." he glanced anxiously at the door, pushing his hair out of his face.  
  
Jones opened his mouth, hesitated a moment. "Greer, Katrina is not coming back."  
  
"What?" He grimaced. "Damn! I knew she was lying, she just wanted an excuse to leave. Damn it! Damn me," he growled. "She probably is a rebel."  
  
Jones shook his head. "Greer, look at me."  
  
He looked up sharply.  
  
"Katrina is not coming back because she was never here."  
  
"Explain," he growled suspiciously.  
  
Jones faltered. What did he say? Greer was angry, he had known it would happen this way. His expression was pained. "The night you met Katrina you also met two other women."  
  
"You were watching me?" he sounded offended.  
  
"I-I was ordered to, the mainframe was running an experiment that was supposed to gain insight into human behavior, specifically, affection. The first two women it arraigned for you to meet were apparently unsuitable. Therefore the mainframe instructed me to create a girl who was suitable. "  
  
Greer scowled. "What are you saying then, that she was a program, designed for me to fall in love with her, and now the experiment's over and she's been deleted?" his voice was raising with ire toward the end.  
  
Jones winced, but thankfully no one seemed to be paying attention to them. "No, Katrina was not a program. I doubt that the mainframe would be quite so cruel as to create a love for you and then delete her."  
  
"Then what?" he demanded. "Tell me what she is Jones... please." He wrung his hands awkwardly.  
  
Jones pursed his lips. "She was a construct."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"A construct is an empty avatar through which an agent may act and speak remotely."  
  
Greer stared a moment and then Jones saw understanding bloom on his expression. "-You," he choked.  
  
The agent nodded, pained. "Yes, it was me."  
  
Now it was Greer who was shaking and his expression an uncertain mixture of confusion, hurt and resentment. "Why?"  
  
Jones stared at the table, he could not look at the recruit. "It was the first time I had really spoken to you, during the experiment, as Katrina. The experiment ended that night, but I wanted to talk to you again, and I did not feel comfortable then, telling you that, I did not know how you would react. You had told 'Katrina' you wanted to see her again, and I...took advantage of that so I kept the deception up." He was pouring it all out now, all but the one thing he wanted terribly to say. "Then, when I finally was able to speak to you in person you were so involved with Katrina that I felt it would be cruel to tell you the truth. And...I was afraid that you would be angry with me."  
  
There was a cigarette burn on the table, Jones stared at it.  
  
"You're Katrina."  
  
"Yes," he said again. "I am. I am sorry that I lied to you. I would not have, but I was afraid. And now...You're angry. "  
  
"I wish you had told me," Greer muttered bitterly, "before I made a fool of myself."  
  
Jones looked up, cocking his head to one side, confused. "What do you mean?"  
  
Greer stared at him blankly. Then he looked away and muttered something unintelligible.  
  
"What was that?" he asked.  
  
The recruit swung his gaze back to meet with that of the agent. His midnight eyes were blazing. "I practically told her that I was in love with her," he hissed in an icy whisper, "I practically told you..."  
  
Jones green eyes grew wide and hope flooded through him, mixed with that same gnawing fear that had been with him the entire time. "Are you...saying what I think you are?"  
  
Greer sneered in an awful, self-loathing manner. "Yeah. I am. I'm in love with an agent." He looked up at the ceiling. "I'm effing in love with an agent. You can laugh now, any time. Go ahead. I won't blame you."  
  
Jones started shaking again, more violently than ever, he could see his hands trembling in front of him on the table. He couldn't tell if Greer was talking to him directly anymore, or to some higher being that humans were prone to address. Jones opened his mouth again, but before he could find his voice Greer continued.  
  
"I knew it too. I just knew something was going on. I couldn't place it then, but somewhere in the back of my mind I could tell. The same person," a harsh chuckle burst from his lips, he reached down and swallowed the rest of the sake in his glass. "It figures."  
  
Jones could see the hysteria in Greer's face and it scared him, but it helped him find the words to speak. "Greer, look at me, please."  
  
The recruit looked away, back at another table.  
  
"Look at me," he demanded again, reaching out and putting his violently quavering hand on top of Greer's larger, sweaty one.  
  
He met his gaze, surprised by the sudden touch.  
  
"Listen to me Greer," it was now, or it was never. The truth was laid bare. "I. Love. You."  
  
His eyes hardened further and panic cracked his voice. "You're lying. You're lying again."  
  
Now Jones laughed in quiet ditress. "What reason would I have? If anyone found out, I would be deleted."  
  
"I-you-You really, aren't lying?"  
  
"I would much rather that I was," he whispered.  
  
"And that- that's why you've been acting-"  
  
"Depressed?" he replied, recalling his earlier words to 'Katrina'. "Yes, that is why."  
  
Greer started at him a moment, and then closed his warm fingers over Jones' hand. "Well, what the hell do we do now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I have do not know," Jones shook his head. "I am not programmed to be in love. It is something new. I do not know how it is possible."  
  
"Well," Greer paused, considering. "I need a drink." he said flatly and waved the waitress over.  
  
***  
  
The geisha waitress walked over. "Yes?"  
  
Greer didn't take his eyes off Jones. "Two sake, please."  
  
She nodded, and hurried away.  
  
Greer studied Jones' face. It was softer than that of the other two agents, and his hair was perhaps half a shade lighter. His features seemed to be crafted deliberately and delicately, his green eyes were large and haunting, his short hair falling in wisps stopping just at his fine eyebrows. He had a concerned expression that stopped just short of looking vulnerable. He was very pale, which might have been from all the time he spent in his office, but then again, agents probably didn't tan, and as Jones' eyes demonstrated, they could change their appearance at will if they liked. His build was more slender than Brown or Smith's and he was at least four inches shorter than Greer. The hand he realized he had not yet let go of was long and thin but strong.  
  
The waitress came back, setting the drinks on the table. Greer nodded an acknowledgement. With his free hand he pushed one of the drinks across to Jones.  
  
"Let's see I you can get drunk," he said with a wry grin. He lifted his own glass with a sort of desperation.  
  
Jones, picked up his rather uncertainly.  
  
"Cheers," Greer clinked their glasses together and took a sip. Jones did the same.  
  
The agent swallowed, and clicked his tongue. "It tastes, odd."  
  
Greer shrugged. "It's Japanese. So," he shifted uneasily. "here we are. Can I ask... how long you've been, well..."  
  
"The day you Smith recruited you," he replied with a shy smile. "Of course, at that point I had no understanding of what I was feeling. What...what about you?"  
  
He shrugged fluidly. "I donno. It happened gradually. I didn't even notice it, certainly didn't acknowledge it..." he shrugged again.  
  
"Why though?" Jones asked, tilting his head. "Why would you feel that way, about me?"  
  
"Why not? We have a connection Jones, it's just one of those things. You can't really explain it, at least, I can't. It just is." But he struggled to put it into words anyway. "I enjoy your company more than any other person I've ever met, I like your voice, I like your smile, the way you laugh. I donno, it's just, you. But that's not really helpful, is it?"  
  
The agent smiled and then made a face, taking another drink. "The amusing things you say, the way you move, your attitude towards life, and...you are quite, visually attractive."  
  
Greer laughed. "Me? That's funny."  
  
"It's true."  
  
"Imagine that," he grinned. "Well, I think you're pretty too, Jones." Greer finished off his second sake and motioned for the waitress to bring another. he alcohol was stronger than usual today or something. He was feeling a bit dizzy.  
  
Jones cheeks flushed.  
  
"You're blushing," the recruit said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
He reached up and touched his face. "Amazing. I was not aware I was capable of such an expression."  
  
Greer chuckled. "So I'm the first person to make an agent blush?"  
  
"I would seem so...Greer, What I meant in my earlier question was actually, that, how is it that you are attracted to me when I am, male?"  
  
He chuckled again, a little embarrassedly this time. "Does it honestly matter? I've known for a year or two I was bi."  
  
Jones seemed confused.  
  
"I appreciate girls and guys," he clarified. "Again, just a thing."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Now how about I ask you one," he said. It was one he'd been meaning to ask for a while but never gotten a chance. "It's a little off topic."  
  
"Go ahead," he smiled.  
  
"Why is Mimosa the only female agent, and how come she has a first name?" Greer pushed a stray lock of hair back behind his ear.  
  
Jones frowned slightly, and pursed his lips. "Agent Mimosa, was... not originally an agent."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"  
  
"She was a recruit. She died and the mainframe chose to bring her on line as an agent. Her consciousness and memories were uploaded and she became a program."  
  
Greer took a sip of his third sake. "Really?" he asked curiously. "Does this happen particularly often?"  
  
Jones shook his head. "No, it has only happened twice. The first time, was...a mistake. A terrible mistake." He shuddered.  
  
The recruit raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"  
  
"Worse. I would rather not discuss the incident."  
  
He nodded. "Sure," privately he wondered what was so bad as to shake him like that. "But Mimosa was okay?"  
  
"It seems that way for the most part." Jones rested his chin in his hands, looking at Greer.  
  
He chewed idly on the knuckle on his pointer finger. So humans could become agents, but it didn't happen very often. That was interesting. The fact that Stef had been human explained a lot as well. He wondered why she never mentioned it to him, did it bother her? What exactly did it take for the mainframe to decide a recruit was worthy? He was currently the most effective recruit in agency, in his own humble opinion.  
  
"It took Smith quite an effort to convince the mainframe that she was worth the risk," Jones said, seeming to read his mind. "I would make an effort to do the same for you, but it is best if you simply avoid dying. I have heard it's rather unpleasant anyway." He smiled.  
  
But everyone dies eventually, he thought to himself. "How old are you Jones?"  
  
"One hundred and forty-five," he replied.  
  
Greer whistled. "You look good for your age," he grinned sardonically.  
  
Jones laughed. "Thank you." Then he paused, and frowned slightly. "We should return to the agency. I am afraid I have been away for too long, and the longer I stay, the more likely it is that my absence will be noticed. Also, your time is nearly up as well."  
  
Greer frowned. "Damn," he muttered. "Well, I definitely don't want to get either of us in trouble." He stood up, requiring the money for the drinks and tip and throwing it down on the table. He reached down and lifted Jones to his feet.  
  
He strode confidently from the bar, into the dusky street, Jones behind him.  
  
"I could just shift us both back," Jones said as they approached the alley beside Monkey Boxing.  
  
"Hold on," Greer said with a grin, he grabbed the agent's wrist and pulled him into the shadow's of the alley. He was feeling reckless and elated, and dizzy. Definitely dizzy.  
  
Jones blinked. "Greer?"  
  
"You have to promise not to tell Brown on me," he said, "I'm about to do something very human."  
  
Before Jones could ask him what he was going to do, Greer pulled the agent close to him, wrapping his arms around him and leaning down, pressing there lips together. Jones was quite shocked and it was obvious that he had never kissed before, but he seemed to get the idea rather quickly, and their mouths moved across one another passionately. Greer pulled at Jones lips hungrily and Jones parted them to admit the recruit's searching tongue. The agent made a small noise and Greer could feel his face heating up. A moment later he broke the kiss, still holding Jones close to him.  
  
The brown haired man looked up at him with wide green eyes, trembling and looking thoroughly shocked. "Greer?" he whispered.  
  
"A kiss," he said with a grin. "It's how humans show affection."  
  
"That, seemed...rather more than affection."  
  
"Yeah? Well, I told you that you were pretty. Now, why don't you shift us back before Brown has a conniption."  
  
The end  
  
for now...  
  
A/N: Mwahahahaha! Now, what did you think of that? 


End file.
